


long live your bastard sons and daughters

by BombsAreForBabies



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Spirit Shenanigans, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, and thought they were bending air for a hot second, i got this idea when I saw the Sandbenders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BombsAreForBabies/pseuds/BombsAreForBabies
Summary: Zuko is born with the full moon shining on him; he doesn’t rise with the sun like most firebenders. It hurts to bend his fire like he’s been taught to, but his flames lick over his skin without burning him.(They all called them Bastards; the illegitimate children of more than one element. It’s a new phenomenon, in the scheme of bending history. Nobody mentions that with each people the Fire Nation decimates, more sects of the so-called Elemental Bastards pop up.The spirits cannot just wait for the human race to start regaining balance by choice, not after a hundred years of fire crawling across the landscape, so they’re slowly taking back and filling the smoldering gaps that have been left behind by the Fire Nation.)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 133
Collections: A:tla





	long live your bastard sons and daughters

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure how I feel about this. But I liked the idea when it popped into my brain during the episode with the Sandbenders and their tiny hurricanes.
> 
> First time in this fandom, so...
> 
> It’s my first time writing in a while in general, actually, so I’m sorry if it’s wonky.

The moon is full and so bright in the sky that it illuminates the room through the windows. It is midnight, the start of a new day, and Lady Ursa has just given birth to the newest Fire Prince. 

All light is suddenly gone, as a cloud passes over the night sky; the whole room shudders, seeing the omen for what it is. At first she is afraid the baby is born still, as she hears none of the crying that she knows she should. The midwife opens her mouth to say something when the cloud finally passes by and the room is once again bathed in light. 

The baby starts wailing.

.

The first time that the baby even gives a hint of being a firebender is exactly one month later. Lady Ursa knows what her husband would do if the boy had not finally made the candlelight flare with his cries; that is why she has refrained from naming him until this very moment.

“Zuko,” she mutters to the child, repeating the name like a prayer. “Zuko, Zuko, Zuko…”

.

“It’s like a compo- compromise,” Zuko explains once, looking proud of how he has used a big word correctly; he has chubby cheeks and none of the fear that will surely be beaten into him later. He stutters around words in his excitement. He sounds happy and carefree when he says this. “I keep the fire lit and the fire lets me use it!”

It is the end of his first real firebending lesson with live fire, and already Ursa is worried for her little boy. That had sounded dangerously close to a style that would be far from welcome in the Fire Nation. Nowadays it is too dangerous to be anything other than a picture of Fire Nation perfection and glory.

She knew the way her grandfather had often spoken in his older age; the man was so used to wielding so many styles of bending that he ended up blending the elements and the different movements and stances that came with each. It used to be amazing, seeing her old grandfather twirl fire like it was as light as air or have the water around his island move as solidly as any rock. He often spoke of compromise with fire and earth, both elements that usually needed a firm hand instead. A part of her is glad to see parts of the man in her son, even if it terrifies her.

She doesn’t tell her son this; she isn’t going to burden him with the sort of self doubts that will plague him in the future. For now all she does is bring him closer and tell him that he should keep this their secret. She knows he is obedient enough that he will, unless the issue is pushed by Ozai or Azulon; with any luck, neither of them will care enough to notice. Azulon barely spends any time with his younger son’s offspring and Ozai only has eyes for their daughter.

Zuko frowns, pouting gently. “Fine, I won’t tell anyone.” And, in that way that all young children do, he promptly forgets his problems and asks, “Can we get those sweet icicle sticks that they sold in the streetcarts last week?”

Ursa smiles, taking his hand in hers and leading him to the gates and a palanquin that will take them to the larger city. Their trips to the city proper are few and far between, considering their station as royalty. That being said, she needs to get her mind off of these darker thoughts and spending time with her son always seems to help. He laughs and opts to sit on the floor of the vehicle rather than on the seats. It’s not proper, but the curtains are closed and he is young and happy. She wonders how long that can last, with the way he is too gentle and doesn't bend in the same way his too-young sister has already shown talent in. 

.

Instructors for Prince Zuko often get frustrated with how he instinctively moves one way when he is supposed to move the other, or how he seems to be straining whenever he does finally get something right. They tend to pass by quickly, often remarking about the boy’s lack of skill. 

There is one instructor that lasts longer than others. 

Irumi was a general of some renown, before her retirement. The woman has slate grey hair and a permanent scowl, but has never burned the boy she teaches like she can see the others before her have. The prince had asked about that once, and she had told him that being afraid of his element was what led many to their deaths in the battlefield; it was the best she could do without outright telling him his other teachers were shit.

For all that the ones before her had constantly complained about the prince, he was actually fairly talented. He knew the katas and how to move between poses, he was agile and determined to do well. When doing everything but the bending, he was fine. The second live fire made its way into the equation, however…

Well, he can do it, but it hurts to look at him when he does. The boy always tenses in ways he never does when doing dry exercises, and afterwards he is always rubbing at the area where he would have to let the fire flow from. She knows it isn’t a fear of fire; she knows that he often uses his own heat to relax the muscles he massages. There must be something else, because he can work with flames and is more than competent on a physical level. He just can’t get them to work together.

She has been trying to figure out how to get him to a place where he can do both— perhaps doing separate exercises and slowly integrating them together? But that would take a while, and she isn’t sure Fire Lord Ozai would be patient enough to let her work this block out with Prince Zuko.

“Why does it hurt to bend?” He asks her one day, doing stretches. Irumi is glad that she isn’t the one who has to bring it up; she has never been good with bringing shit like this up naturally in conversation. This would be so much easier if it were a military setting, where she could be blunt.

The question has been bothering her too. She has her plans on how to get him to be able to bend using proper forms eventually, but the hurdle that it is now is genuinely confusing; she doesn't like being confused and Agni above, the young prince is confusing.

“It shouldn’t,” she says. Seeing his anxious face makes her angry at whatever instructors came before her. The boy is blaming himself now, she can see it in his eyes. “You’re doing the forms correctly,” she reassures him. “And as far as I can tell, you don’t have any symptoms of chi blockages.” 

Irumi is used to strategy and battlefields, not the human emotional element of things beyond making sure her soldiers weren’t suffering the kinds of trauma that would put themselves and the others in their division in danger. Her way of finding alternate strategies for impossible situations is what got her promoted so quickly before she retired; maybe looking at this from another angle like she would have back then would work?

“Well, Prince Zuko,” she cautiously says, not wanting to scare the boy off, “what _doesn’t_ hurt?”

Zuko looks at her and then at the ground, sitting on the grass of the training ground. He twists grass between his fingers, the tension of it making his skin turn paler than usual before it ends up being pulled from the ground and letting his blood flow again. The motion is repeated a few times, and Irumi knows better than to interrupt the boy’s thinking; it would only end up making him panic and close off. 

Just because she knows this does not mean she has the patience to back it up for long. She is just about to give up and try to prod the boy into some sort of response when she hears him mumble something.

“Mom told me to keep it a secret,” he mumbles again, when he sees she hasn’t heard him.

Irumi knows secrets; in this nation they can weigh heavy and burn just as violent as any fire if released without caution. She thinks for a second, debating on whether to push this or not. It may kick her in the ass later, but she decides to say, “You won’t get in trouble. Promise, on my honor as a bender of the Fire Nation.”

That was good enough for Zuko, apparently. Irumi wonders if she should break it to him that honor hasn’t meant jack shit in the Fire Nation for the last hundred or so years.

He takes a breath and then he brings himself to a looser pose; he brings out his flames, the flow of them almost soothing. She sees wisps touch his skin, but he doesn’t flinch and it doesn’t leave any marks. There’s a ribbon-like quality to them, reminding her of those dances she used to see when she was a child, with the dancers almost flying in the air with great streaks of color behind them.

The flames move with him and around him, almost circling him in a way that she knows they shouldn’t. It reminds her of the tales of the great dragons, circling around those that they felt they needed to protect. It reminds her of the serpents that she has heard live in the oceans still, a mirror image of the great beasts that no longer roam the skies. There is none of the careful distance that she has always been taught to keep between fire and it’s wielder.

 _Jeong Jeong would be so jealous_ , she thinks, _seeing fire that doesn’t burn with violence._

Irumi sees Zuko looking nervous from her to the ground, where there is a patch of bare earth from his fidgeting earlier. She kneels down to his level, and tells him the truth.

“You’re very special,” she says. “There’s nothing wrong with you, but your mother is right: you need to keep this a secret, for now.”

He nods and looks sad, but not surprised.

Irumi doesn’t know what to make of this child, but she knows that if Ozai found out about how his flames burned the man would either leave him to rot or work him until he broke. She recognizes uniqueness, and thinks back to her own old master; she should probably speak with him. He is the only one she knows of that even touches the different bending styles. 

She feels guilt, knowing that she won’t be able to help. As much as she is a master at firebending, she never got the spiritual side of things nor the whole balancing act of the elements; she knows who does though, if she can find the elusive Deserter.

“I know someone who can help you better than me,” she says bluntly. “I will find him, and I’ll come back when I do.” She sees his lip wobble and she feels so sorry for the gentle kid that is caught up in the shitshow that is the royal family and the Fire Nation. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll be back, and I’ll be able to teach you all sorts of new things.”

.

When Irumi leaves that day, she heads out to the Earth Kingdom, in hopes of finding an old man who has been spending years trying to morph his fire into something else. She never thought she’d be the one asking for help from a man who has all but abandoned his flames, but here she is, eating shitty food on a boat heading towards a place she helped wreck.

Looking at the hungry people around her, eating their gruel like it’s gourmet komodo-chicken, she thinks she can understand a little bit why he left.

.

Irumi doesn’t find her old master until it’s too late, and the young prince is no longer in the Fire Nation. She hopes that he will be okay; she doubts it.

.

Piandao had not expected a request to teach the young prince, especially since the boy was also a bender, and he knows that the royal family tended to turn their noses up at any other forms of combat when bending is an option. But, a scribbled message from the second son of the Fire Lord’s wife, telling him an old General he knew from his days in service told her how to reach him, is something that he is too curious about to decline.

In the end, the boy he is to teach is a small child with a budding respect for the blade, most likely discovered through his insecurities in firebending. As long as he took the lessons seriously and had actual passion for the art, Piandao has no objections to teaching the boy.

It had been disheartening to see the way he flinched whenever he did something wrong and Piandao went to gently fix his stance. 

Surprisingly, he takes to the sword naturally. It often takes a while for firebenders to learn to let the blades become an extension of their arm. Many had to be dissuaded from going at the enemy with only forceful jabs and be coaxed into letting the sword cut as it swam through the air; there was a reason that many firebenders tended to go for projectile or stabbing weapons. 

Piandao may not be a firebender, but from how the boy takes to reprimanding himself for every little mistake in sword training, he is sure that the child is much more competent in bending than he says he is. The kid needs confidence and a steady hand that will not strike him at every mistake.

Prince Zuko is great with two blades, one in each hand, moving as fluid as water. No matter how good he is, Piandao knows that there isn’t anything he can do to help the haunted look in his eyes when he moves too quickly towards him or how he flinched with each reprimand. He knows that there is nothing he can do to make Zuko see that he is more than a comparison to his prodigy sister. All he can do is pray to Agni that this boy will not be turned to kindling in an attempt to make him burn brighter.

.

Azulon watches as his second son trots his daughter around like a show animal. She is advanced, much more powerful than almost any other in her age group and has the cold accuracy and precision that will surely benefit her when she starts learning to harness blue fire. He would be much more impressed if his son wasn’t so obvious in his ulterior motive; he wonders what ludicrous power grab Ozai will attempt this time.

Then, his grandson announces that he’d like to show his skills. It’s a desperate attempt to garner any sort of approval from an authority figure. The boy will have that used against him one day, if he isn’t careful. His grandson’s firebending is lackluster. The forms slip away from him mid kick and he looks like he hurts when the meager flames he produces do come out. He slinks back to sitting seiza on the floor, a look of shame on his face.

There is something almost familiar about the way that the boy’s body tried to move itself one way only for him to try and push it back into Fire Nation standard form and end up failing. It makes Azulon feel uneasy; he will have to keep tabs on young Zuko.

In the meanwhile, the Fire Lord gives a hard stare to the family in front of him and grimaces. Agni knows how his youngest son is expecting to be a royal of any proper standing when he has trained one child to be a weapon and the other beaten down into so much submission that the boy barely has any confidence left. It’s pathetic. 

.

Ozai trying to usurp the throne from beneath Iroh is a fool’s errand; the only advantage that Azulon can see is convincing the man to get rid of the boy who reminds him of the mother’s blood too much for him to be anywhere near the crown. The boy makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; while his idiot son is getting rid of him, Azulon can figure out how to make sure that there will be no way for the crown to be passed down to Ozai; he will run this nation into the ground if he gets his way, and Azulon knows no one will be too sad to see the man gone.

.

He knows that Ozai has no love for his boy. He forgets about the woman who his second son is married to. For all that he knows she hates Ozai, he didn’t count on her loving the children she bore for her husband.

.

Ursa knows much more than people expect her to. She is a mother and she is a descendant of a Fire Nation avatar; when dragons were still plentiful in this continent, they were known to fiercely protect their young. Ursa knows she is no dragon, but she will kill just as fiercely for her son.

She makes a deal with her husband in none but name, and she leaves with only a whispered goodbye and plea for her son to never forget who he is.

.

Azulon is dead. 

Ursa is gone.

Iroh has left.

“Long live Fire Lord Ozai.”

.

The War Room is dark and the map engraved into the table is polished smooth, despite its frequent use all these years. It is no place for a child, even one coming ever closer to that age where they are on the cusp of adulthood. Why the young Prince Zuko is allowed in here is beyond anyone’s guess, but he is and he looks far too excited and bright eyed. It would be amusing how much the boy wants to finally be included in these types of affairs, were it not for the tension in the room.

General Kotaru, long since grown hardened to the loss of lives and brutality of war, does his best not to show his distaste as the man to his right suggests the murder of a whole division as a distraction; because that is what it would be: murder. He doesn’t say anything, however. He thinks that he may bring up a counter-argument if he can think of one before the man is done presenting his plan. 

He does not approve of the plan, but it’s a sound strategy and if he can think of none better, he will not argue. There is no justice in war and the lives who are snuffed out are no longer sacred to anyone who has been to more than one of these meetings.

There is no one he or his wife knows in the 41st Division, and it isn’t like they’d be losing experienced men. They can afford this loss, Kotaru thinks, no matter how distasteful it may be.

The young prince, however, does not hold the same opinions. And, full of idealism and youthful arrogance, yells at the General before he even finishes proposing his plan. Kotaru prays to Agni that this isn’t going to end up where he knows it will; he has seen the boy try to bend, and it looks like pulling teeth from the kid. A duel with him would be so one sided, even if his opponent were anyone less than the Fire Lord himself.

Prince Zuko accepts the challenge, and Kotaru wonders if this kid even knows who he’s going to face. 

.

The young prince bows his head to the floor, begging for forgiveness. His father still steps closer.

.

Iroh looks away. He can still hear the boy’s screams.

.

Zuko knows fire and the flames he knows have never burned him before; he has heard tales of the young and inexperienced burning themselves, even if he hasn’t ever felt pain coming from his own flames. The benders he has seen so far in his life know too much to let them burn without purpose. In all the years that Zuko has lived, few as they may be, he has always experienced the pain of fire only when those who wielded it wanted it to hurt. 

The last thoughts Zuko has before passing out are that his father must have wanted it to hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y’all liked this. It’s probably confusing as fuck, but next chapter should explain things more. Maybe.


End file.
